


safe harbour

by swapcats



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:17:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swapcats/pseuds/swapcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riven sits on the edge of the bed, more contemplative than tense, and were she anyone else, Karma would reach out and pull her close. But Riven isn't anyone else, she's <i>Riven</i>, and Karma understands that the biggest part of wanting her will always have to be wanting her to be comfortable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	safe harbour

     The first time Riven comes to her in the dead of night, she's been in Ionia for two and a half months—not counting the endless weeks she spent wandering the wilderness, tending to her wounds in streams, becoming thinner and thinner, weaker and weaker.

     Riven never announces her arrival ahead of time. One morning, Karma finds her sat in the living room, tucked into a corner with her arms wrapped around her knees, and later learns that she's simply there to listen to the strange ways The Placidium creaks and groans at the mercy of the life within it, the steady rhythm of Karma's breathing as she pores over letters. Sometimes, she's there not to listen. Karma's certain Riven's come and gone without her being aware of it: the crash of waterfalls covers the sound of Riven's footsteps, and she sits amongst the ancient, weather-worn statues as though she's one of them.

     Karma says nothing of it. If Riven seeks her solitude around her, then so be it.

     She doesn't know exactly where Riven stays of a night, except that it's never the same place more than one night in a row. Riven works around Ionia, picking up all manner of scattered, menial jobs in the farms clustered around smaller villages, the granaries and lumber mills. Sometimes, she sleeps in the barns of those who do not hold vengeance so close to their hearts that they'd refuse to let a Noxian do their heavy lifting. 

     Karma's found her in vine-covered shrines before, making a bed of the thick moss lining the forest floor, but Karma doesn't doubt for a moment that Riven spends most of her nights wide-eyed and restless. 

     When Riven visits to do more than listen, Karma never lectures her. Never tries to push her towards a recovery Riven might never believe she truly deserves. She doesn't treat her like a frightened animal, either, liable to flee if she makes any sudden movements, or says anything untoward; she treats Riven with the respect she deserves, letting her weave around her as she slowly but surely finds her way in this new world.

     So when Riven knocks at her screen door during the dead of night, although she's never visited at such an hour, the most surprising thing of all is the fact that she actually _knocks_. Karma wraps a nightgown around herself and hurries to offer Riven refuge from the constant drizzle that's claimed the late hour.

     Riven steps in, but doesn't presume to go any further. Karma slides the door shut and lights the candles on the low table, illuminating the room in a soft, unobtrusive way that does just enough to reassure her that physical wounds aren't the reason behind Riven's unusual visit.

     Her hair is wet with rain, clinging to her forehead and the back of her neck, and her dirt-covered clothes aren't much drier. Riven's shoulders are tense, almost touching her ears, as though she's afraid someone might try tearing the Noxian garb from her. She's refused any and all new clothing Karma's offered her, but has gathered scraps from around Ionia to fashion to her own ends.

     “Is everything alright?” Karma eventually offers, when Riven doesn't take a step forward.

     Riven blinks, tilting her head towards Karma as though noticing her for the first time. Tentatively, Karma lifts a hand, wanting to graze her fingers across Riven's cheek, but Riven reaches up, deflecting her. Karma doesn't attempt to initiate contact again.

     “Make yourself comfortable,” Karma says, gesturing towards the sofa. “Tea?”

     Riven crosses the room, grunts out her _yes_ , and sits on the sofa with all the grace of a rock bested by gravity.

     While the water boils, Karma fetches a clean towel from the bathroom cupboard. She places it on the arm of the sofa Riven's pressed up against, in spite of the space available to her, but Riven doesn't take it until Karma's back's turned to her. She removes cups from the cupboard, placing them on a tray, and as steam begins to rise from the water, she dares to look back at Riven.

     Riven's as guarded as ever. The towel's draped over her shoulders and she uses one hand to half-heartedly rub her hair dry. Karma smiles across the room, not expecting Riven to return the gesture. Her fondness for Riven is no secret, though she's never expressed it in words: she hopes that Riven knows it in the way she allows her to come and go, to wander as she pleases; the way she offers all she has to Riven, but never expects her to take so much as a handful of it.

     All that Riven's been through has marred her, made her bones too heavy for her body, but Karma sees no weakness in that. She understands the depths of what Riven has endured and aches for her, but there's no pity there; she does not for a moment believe that Riven deserves what's befallen her, or that it happened for a reason, but she knows that one day, it's going to help shape Riven into who she truly wants to be.

     Riven scrubs her face dry and Karma carries the tray to the low table. 

     Riven strikes at her tea like a snake, but becomes unmoving once she has it between her hands. Karma watches her warm her palms and takes small sips of her own drink, wondering what, if anything, Riven wants her to say. Pushing aside concern for her sofa, Karma's gaze wanders across the dirt streaked into Riven's trousers, her shirt, but Riven's never had any interest in discussing her work. 

     Before Karma can give conversation any more thought, Riven downs her tea in three heavy gulps, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and says, “I came to see you.”

     Had anyone else said it, they'd be doing nothing more than stating the obvious.

     Karma's stomach twists.

     “Oh?” she says, determined to stand her ground.

     “Yeah.” Riven shrugs. “Is that alright?”

     “Of course. You know you're always welcome here, Riven, whenever you please.”

     “No—” Riven says. Her fingers tighten around her cup. “That's not what I mean.”

     Riven glares at the cup in her hand, blaming her lack of eloquence on it, gaze slipping out of focus. Karma doesn't dare breathe too loudly, lest she startle Riven, and when Riven turns to her, for a moment, there's something aching, pleading, buried in her eyes. 

     It only lasts a second. Riven returns to staring at her cup, then _clunk_ s it down on the table. Riven keeps her elbows on her knees, shoulders hunched, but Karma doesn't panic. This is hardly the first time she's seen Riven struggle for words.

     She finishes her tea. She watches the rain patter against the window panes.

     Something within Riven urges her to try again.

     “I came to see _you_ ,” she says, voice more of a growl than a purr.

     The next thing Karma knows, Riven's fingers are twisted in the collar of her nightgown. Karma remains still as Riven moves to her knees, one leg thrown over Karma's lap, but doesn't tense; she trusts Riven to only do what she herself is comfortable with and curls her fingers towards her palm, trying to douse the buzzing, dizzying need to reach out and place her hands against Riven's sides.

     Riven presses her forehead to Karma's and mutters, “Fuck,” frustrated with her own unceremonious movements. Karma swallows hard, all too aware of the way her chest rises and falls, and then Riven's kissing her; their lips barely have the chance to graze together before Riven's heavy against her. The kiss isn't slow and gentle, nor is it rough and thoughtless. It is what it is. It's _Riven_ , and that's all that matters to Karma.

     She dares to take hold of Riven's hips, and Riven's fingers tangle in her hair, one hand fumbling to find the strip of fabric holding Karma's nightgown together. Karma denies her nothing and sinks into the sofa, knowing that Riven would never give more than she could afford to; she isn't taking anything from her, isn't making demands.

     The rest of the world becomes very far away indeed. The waterfalls stop crashing against rocks, and rain no longer pelts the windows. All that remains is the sound of Riven's breathing, the feel of her fingers, her mouth. The way she allows Karma to touch her, the way she arches against the sofa, flat on her back, nails digging into the nape of Karma's neck, biting on the back of her own hand to keep herself quiet. Karma kneels above her, face buried in her shoulder as Riven's rough, calloused hands wander, fingers tracing the insides of her thighs, moving up and up. Karma can't hold back the noises Riven eases out of her, she can't, she can't.

     The both of them are rushed, desperate to touch one another, to be touched by each other, and though relief rushes through Karma's body, it's over too soon. Her head spins in the best of ways, and she's busy curling her toes and stretches her legs as Riven frees herself from beneath her and finds her feet.

     “Shit,” she mumbles, pulling her trousers back up. 

     Neither of them are close to naked: Riven's shirt never came off, her trousers went no lower than her knees, and Karma's nightgown has only spilt open. She blinks her vision clear and finds that Riven's trodden mud into the arm of the sofa with the soles of her boots.

     “I've got to go,” Riven says, turning on the spot before she remembers where the door is. “I've got to... yeah.”

     Karma doesn't tell her to stay. Her lips are parted, but she doesn't let herself speak. She wishes she could, more than anything, but she won't trap Riven. Won't force her to explain herself.

     And so she watches her go.

     Riven doesn't manage to close the door all the way. Karma sits there, staring at it, feeling the cool night breeze brush against her bare skin. All the heat Riven brought with her is fast fading, but the memories aren't. Karma brings her fingers to her lips as she ties her nightgown back around her waist, and leaves the tea cups on the table to be dealt with in the morning.

*

     The next time Riven visits, they make it to the bed.

     That hunger and desperation from the first night hasn't died down yet, but Karma knows that Riven would never let herself take her time, would never allow herself to linger in the space between one touch and the next. Still, Karma can hardly claim patience herself: it has been harder than ever to relegate thoughts of Riven from her mind, and Karma can't recall when, exactly, her clothes were banished to the foot of the bed, to the floor.

     The trail of rough kisses Riven left across her shoulders and chest and stomach still tingle, and Karma twists her fingers in Riven's hair, rolling her hips against her mouth. Riven makes muted noises against her and a shiver runs down Karma's spine every time. Riven's still dressed, though she's kicked her boots off, this time, and Karma closes her eyes, marvelling at the way Riven's name feels exactly as she imagined it would on her lips.

     Her feet slide against the mattress as she frantically rolls her hips, hands sliding between Riven's shoulder blades, gripping the back of her shirt. Riven tenses, and Karma has the clarity of mind to let go. Her fingers find their way to the back of her head, fingers bumping against the shell of her ears, and Riven redoubles her efforts, relaxing enough to push Karma to breaking point.

     In the aftermath, Karma lies on her side and makes a half-hearted attempt to pull the covers over herself. Riven sits on the edge of the bed, more contemplative than tense, and were she anyone else, Karma would reach out and pull her close. But Riven isn't anyone else, she's _Riven_ , and Karma understands that the biggest part of wanting her will always have to be wanting her to be comfortable.

     Blood stops surging through her veins. Her heart stops pounding. She hears the tick of the clock once more, and Riven sits there for ten long minutes, barely moving, other than to breathe.

     “You don't have to leave,” Karma says quietly, “But you don't have to stay, either.”

     Riven nods. She gets to her feet, nods again, and looks around for her boots. She grabs them by the laces, heads straight for the door, and forces herself to stop, an inch from closing it behind her.

     “... night,” she says, heading through the dark of the house.

     Karma sinks against the pillows, closing her eyes and listening to the sound of Riven leaving. She pauses before she goes – stopping to put her boots on, Karma thinks – and finally, she hears the front door slide shut.

     Karma isn't sad she's gone. Isn't hurt, either. She pulls the covers over her shoulders, and thinks of the countless absences that pass between them, when they're together: the lack of uncertainty, of hesitance. The absence of discomfort and distance and time.

     As she drifts to sleep, she doesn't think of Riven next to her, pressed up against her. Riven gives as much of herself as she can afford to, and it isn't Karma's place to ask for more. Not now, not ever.

     Riven doesn't stay the next time, either. Or the time after that. Her visits are sporadic at best; once, she's gone for a week and returns without so much as a word of explanation. Karma doesn't question her, only greets her with warmth and understanding, but no matter how many times they're together, it feels rushed. Riven never slows down. She doesn't know how to. Karma knows that she's afraid of taking a moment to herself, a moment to breathe, as if it'll cause her to stop, and she'll never be able to start again.

     Riven kisses her not as though she's hungry, but as if she's starving. Her touches are desperate but deliberate, and she is always, always focused on her task, on the end goal. And Karma cannot help but accommodate her, no longer able to keep her breathing steady around her.

     Karma accepts that things are as they must be for now, until one day, Riven kisses her and kisses her, and doesn't stop. She kisses her like she's empty, aching, trying to fill the void Noxus tore out of her and Ionia can't replace. Karma places her hands on Riven's face, and only then does she stop her.

     “What's wrong?” Karma asks.

     Riven shakes her head, forehead knocking against Karma's shoulder.

     Karma gently runs her fingers through Riven's hair, keeping Riven close for as long as she'll permit herself to be malleable in Karma's arms.

     “You don't have to leave,” Karma softly reminds her.

     And she doesn't.

     She doesn't crawl into bed with Karma that night, but she doesn't leave, either. Karma drifts asleep to the sound of Riven opening cupboards, helping herself to food, pacing back and forth across the living area.

     Over the weeks that follow, Riven does her best not to leave. Sometimes, she's gone before Karma wakes, and Karma never knows if it's by hours or minutes. Sometimes, she collapses against the mattress the moment the heat between them is resolved, and sleeps late into the afternoon. Most of the time, she simply doesn't sleep. She tosses and turns beneath the covers. She pulls herself from bed and sits in the garden, staring at the moon overhead.

     Some nights, Karma joins her. Other nights, she knows better.

     The first time Riven falls asleep before her, Karma kisses her forehead and drifts off with a smile on her face. Her peaceful slumber doesn't last long. She's torn from her dreams by a harrowing voice she doesn't understand, at first, and it forces her heart into her throat. She's met by a whirlwind of blankets and thrashing limbs, and Riven's voice is louder than she's ever known it to be: it fills the bedroom, hollow and fearful, and Riven claws at the mattress.

     Riven's words come out hoarse, nothing more coherent than _no, no, stop, help—Kat, Kat, no—_ and Karma grabs her shoulders, determined to break her from her nightmares.

     “Riven. It's alright. You're dreaming,” she says as Riven twists her shoulders, trying to tear free from her grasp. “You're safe here, Riven.”

     Riven's eyes snap open, but she isn't awake yet. Strong hands seize Karma's wrists as though _she's_ the enemy, and Riven's grasp tightens, teeth grit together, before her eyes flash in recognition.

     The room falls silent.

     Riven drops Karma's hands and scrambles to the far side of the bed.

     “Karma—” she starts, ready to make her escape. For good, if she's determined to punish herself still.

     “Riven,” Karma says quietly. “I'm here.”

     Riven crumbles. There's nothing loud or dramatic or memorable about it: her shoulders slump and she tangles her fingers in her hair, seething through grit teeth. Karma sits there and doesn't say anything; she doesn't look away, either. There's nothing shameful in what Riven's going through, nothing she ought to cast her eyes away from.

     “What do you need?” Karma asks.

     Riven's chest rises and falls, faster than Karma's ever known it to.

     “I—” she tries, teeth snapping back together. She swallows the lump in her throat. “... I want to stay.”

     Slowly nodding, Karma holds out an arm. Riven stares at it as though it's a weapon to be used against her, but the minutes pass and she learns to breathe evenly again. She inches across the bed, into Karma's embrace, and lies with her face against Karma's chest, her fingers digging into the mattress, and then Karma's side.

     Karma doesn't tell her that things are going to be alright. She doesn't ask Riven what she dreamt of, or who Kat is. Instead, she holds her close, daring to run her fingers across the back of Riven's shirt. Riven tenses, but only for a second; Karma's fingers find her spine, and all the breath in Riven's lungs rushes out of her, across Karma's collarbone.

*

     Slowly but surely, Karma learns how to help Riven take things slowly. She realises, one day, that Riven becomes less frantic when she wraps her fingers around her wrists and holds them either side of her head, her hips. Riven allows her to take her time with lingering kisses, when her hands are off-limits, and when she rarely struggles, it's out of instinct. The moment Karma releases her, she's working at full-speed again.

     Karma does all she can to understand Riven, putting the pieces together one at a time, but doesn't dare to act on anything without consulting with Riven first.

     “What is it you want, Riven?” she murmurs, holding her wrists in place, between the slats of the headboard. “Tell me.”

     Riven takes surprisingly well to the direct command. She closes her eyes, tongue running across her dry lips, and after a moment, she says, “... I want to be still.”

     “Still?” Karma asks, ghosting her lips across Riven's.

     “Yeah,” Riven says, tilting her jaw for a kiss Karma doesn't let her catch. “... calm.”

     Karma understands her perfectly.

     Pressing her forehead to Riven's, she whispers, “Thank you for trusting me.”

     In the days that follow, Karma does her utmost to teach Riven patience. Meditation, it seems, has been of no benefit to her. It takes some doing, and Karma allows her plenty of time, but Riven stretches herself out, presenting her wrists to Karma. Karma takes her time in binding her wrists with rope and straps, makes an art of it; makes it part of the process of Riven slowly but surely unwinding and letting her walls down.

     She watches as Riven screws her eyes shut, arching her back and stretching her limbs out as control is slowly tugged away from her. Karma asks again and again if this is alright, if this is too much, and Riven nods over and over for her to continue.

     And Karma does. She does everything she can to ensure Riven realises that it's alright to take the time to really feel what she's going through; she deserves every second of it. She eases Riven into the process, letting her know that she won't cross any lines; she won't let her fingers wander close to the hem of her shirt, let alone under it. Riven arches up against her, slowly learning to relax, that she's worth every millisecond Karma spends on her. Karma takes away her facade of control, whispers orders in her ear, until for once, for once, Riven forgets the past for long enough to abide something that's good for her.

     It doesn't end once Riven's spent, either. Karma unties the ropes as slowly as she bound them, not wanting to shatter the atmosphere, and rubs Riven's wrists and ankles, kissing her forehead, whispering that she did so, so well. Riven keeps her eyes closed, not yet ready to face the real world, and Karma makes her tea while a hot bath runs. 

     Riven glances at the bathroom nervously, and Karma squeezes her hand and says, “Let me know if you need anything.”

     Riven disappears with a nod. For the first time, she removes her shirt inside of Karma's house; it almost doesn't matter that there are walls between them. When Riven returns from the shower, warm and red-faced, bundled up in one of Karma's bathrobes, the way her damp hair sticks to her forehead reminds her of the first night Riven turned up.

     Karma holds out a hand. Riven falls against the bed and allows Karma to shuffle over, nose brushing against her wet hair.

     “Thanks,” Riven says. She presses her nose to the hollow of Karma's throat, fingers tracing the dragon tattooed across her thigh. “... thanks.”

*

     Riven disappears for a fortnight.

     Karma misses her presence, her touch, the rhythm of her breathing when sleep comes to her and nightmares leave her be, but she doesn't wish for her to return. Not until she's ready, and has seen to all she needs to.

     When Riven finally returns, it's at the end of a long day. Karma's about to retire to bed when she sees her sneak in. Riven opens the door inch by inch and steps in quietly, as though she was hoping not to be noticed. When Karma catches sight of her, she has no choice but to step into the light.

     She looks awful. Her hair's askew, leaves and twigs caught in it, and dark, angry marks are smudged beneath her eyes. She stands with her shoulders hunched, short sleeves doing nothing to hide her bruises. She sniffs loudly, but her eyes are dry. Karma knows better than to ask her where she's been.

     “I'll run a bath for you,” Karma offers.

     Riven says nothing to object, but when Karma steps towards the bathroom, she grabs her wrist.

     Karma stops. She waits. Riven takes a deep breath and pulls her closer.

     Karma wraps her arms around Riven's shoulders, heart heavy with the thought of what the last few days have held for her. She kisses the top of Riven's head, murmuring reassurances to her. She doesn't have to tell her what's happened. She doesn't need to know. Riven can keep her secrets, the parts of her she doesn't want anyone else to see; what matters is that they trust one another, and that she's safe there.

     Riven tenses in her arms until she's trembling. Karma holds on tighter but Riven seizes hold of her shoulder, pushing her back.

     “I want...” Riven begins, shifting her jaw from left to right. Pausing to remind herself that it's alright to _want_. “I want to show you something.”

     Karma lets herself be led into the bedroom. Riven places her hands on her shoulders and eases her onto the edge of the bed, and for once, the constant, invasive control that demands Riven's attention at every moment is working in her favour. She wants to do this. Whatever she's about to do, Karma knows Riven's come to her own decision without any coercion, without any uncertainty.

     Riven looks away. She hooks her thumbs around the hem of her tattered shirt, and without allowing herself to hesitate again, she pulls it off. She throws it to the side and stands between Karma's knees, chest bare, and though Karma's eyes skim across her stomach and chest, torso as scarred as it is toned, she knows this isn't what Riven wants to share with her.

     Riven trusts Karma to make her own way there. Not taking the responsibility lightly, she moves her fingertips to Riven's hips and tilts her chin up, holding eye contact as she traces her fingers to the small of her back. Riven tenses, eyes flashing with fear. Karma's fingers bump against the edges of a horrific chemical burn, but she doesn't falter. She doesn't move her fingers away.

     Her palms smooth across Riven's back, taking all of it in. Riven screws her eyes shut, hands trembling as she bundles her fingers in the shoulders of Karma's shirt, and she inhales and she inhales, chest jerking with shallow breaths. Karma feels Riven's past unfold before her, as rugged as any weathered rock, and promises not to let Riven go until she wishes to be freed; she tells her that the future may be full of dangers, but the past is behind them, and she's there to walk side by side into any darkness that may drape over them.

     Riven stops shaking. She exhales, letting go.

     “Now,” Karma says, rising to her feet and cupping Riven's face. “Are you quite certain you don't want that bath?”

     Riven huffs a dry laugh, leaning towards her.

     “Yeah,” Riven says, and as Karma rests her chin atop her hair, staring down at the burns that have twisted and gnarled her back, she doesn't miss the smile in her voice. “Sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have lots more League fic posted here -- http://swapbats.tumblr.com/tagged/league%20of%20legends !


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